


Fated

by Zenna_Crell47



Series: Old FanFictions [7]
Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Princesses, Frozen (2013), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996), The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: Adventure, Drabbles, F/M, Princess reader, Rivals, Rule 63, Sailing, Translations provided, cameo of Captain Hook, copious and unnecessary use of French, genderbender, genderbent Disney ladies, magical reader, might return to these stories later, multiple works in one, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 07:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenna_Crell47/pseuds/Zenna_Crell47
Summary: Three separate stories, where beloved female characters have been Rule 63'd into men. Each chapter will have it's own summary.First chapter involves male!Elsa -- Elias -- and what happens when Fire meets Ice.Parts of a collection of writings I've written and originally posted on other sites. Formats have been changed to suit my current style of writing, but the content remains otherwise unchanged.All three were originally posted on deviantART in May 2016.





	1. VERSUS (male Elsa)

Fire and ice: ancient and bitter enemies. Extremities defined: both became the cause of discomfort and even hate to the human race when in overabundance. It just so happened that you had a gift that allowed you to control the fiery half of the spectrum. And at the same time, your opposite counterpart, a man by the name of Elias, controlled the freezing portion.  
  
“Time to say hello to your rival,” you muttered to yourself.  
  
The road to Arendelle had been a very long one, considering you had to walk across three other countries to get there – and all but one of them had basically run you off to their borders once they found out about your talent. Well, it flip-flopped between a blessing and a curse, most days. And the grander majority of those who knew of it called it a curse when you accidentally set things on fire, so… Mostly a curse.  
  
To keep your hands busy, you snapped your fingers to light a spark, tossing it lightly, like a ball, between your hands as you walked closer to the city's outer limits. It was a nervous habit you had acquired as a child, and it was one your mother had tried to break… You shook your head and extinguished the spark with a sigh before any of the people you approached could see it and run you off. After all of this effort, there was no way you were going to get run off now. Not after getting so close.  
  
You could almost _feel_ that crisp scent of the King's winter magic in your bones. It was so unlike your own: ice magic was, of course, colder and more starkly rigid. Compared to the breezy, whimsical nature of your power, ice was stone-like and frigid. You could taste the King's touch, his power, in the air and all around the city. All unbidden, a smile pulled at your lips.  
  
It was easy to ask the townspeople for directions to the palace. So long as you carried yourself pleasantly and kept an innocent demeanor, they retained whatever suspicions they had to themselves. Rather refreshing, really, after all the trouble you went through to get there. And that moment when you laid eyes on the castle was something to be remembered! A shiver ran up your spine, like you hadn't felt in ages, and it only sent your senses ablaze. Cold didn't bother you so much anymore because you were always warm, and the heat didn't phase you, either. The summer sun may have been beating upon the backs of the people of Arendelle, but it greeted you like an old friend. But this – this was something far better.  
  
A brief breath, to settle your excitement, and you continued on towards the castle.  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
Nodding to the baker on his way past, the King of Arendelle smiled and waved to the people. Eager children raced each other, half-bowing to their King as they ran, in their excitement. And as he walked, the blonde man took note of a particular stranger. Sure, traders were due to the city for the duration of the warm season, but such a cloak? He'd never seen the like of it before. It hid the face of the wearer as much as wearing a mask might have. Granted, he could understand that the ice rink would cool off the city quickly, and the suddenness of the change might overwhelm the newest of traders, but it wasn't cooled yet. Surely the heat must be suffocating… He wouldn't really know, though. His ice powers kept him naturally cool at all times. Brushing off the odd appearance of the stranger for now, he continued on his way.  
  
At the behest of his people, King Elias stood in town-square, preparing himself to cast the spell to give his citizens their beloved summer ice rink. Their cheers and calls for relief from the summer heat brought a satisfied smirk to his lips. After all that time of hiding his powers and hating them, it was nice to be needed. No longer fearful in the least, Elias began forming a ball of shimmering blue energy, his sense of pride growing as he noted the cheers emanating from the children from the corners of his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, the energy-mass launched high into the air, powdering the air with gentle snow and slicking the road with ice. Gleeful cries rent the air pleasantly, and the people of Arendelle – young and old, male and female, of all shapes and sizes and colors – took to playing in the faux winter.  
  
Then, someone sneezed. A harmless little sneeze, rather reminiscent of a kitten…  
  
And the ice at the edges began to melt.  
  
Elias' merry countenance faded at the rim. Sure, the heat was strong that day, but to melt his ice so quickly? Just as a frown introduced itself to his visage, Elias, thinking only to keep the fun going, sent small, wispy tendrils of blue energy to the melting parts, refreezing them carefully to avoid creating a super slick portion of the rink that would endanger the safety of the those who stumbled upon them. But even that couldn't stop the on-rushing flood of watery death.  
  
“Oh, no,” he heard a feminine voice, so very close to himself, mutter under her breath. “Stop, stop!”  
  
But it wouldn't stop. The puddle continued to grow in size, engulfing the edges entirely of the rink. In a blazing panic, he tried to refreeze the melting ice, but succeeded in only fighting it back to the walls. “Keep away from the edges!” he called to the people.  
  
Something in his expression, pained and worried as it was, caused some of the skaters to pause and ponder, and others to continue what they did with only a little more caution than before.  
  
Elias' younger brother skated to the King's side, his sweet face furrowed in confusion. “What's up, Elias? Is something wrong?” he questioned sincerely. “Are you feeling alright?”  
  
The ice King was looking a little sick, though with worry rather than a physical ailment. But he hesitated. He may have overcome the inhibition to share his feelings in a constructive way, but the need to protect his little brother, to keep the young man from unnecessary worry, was still there. It was instinct to protect his little brother. “… I'm fine. Probably just been out in the sun without a glass for water to refresh me, for too long,” Elias replied, a weak smile tugging at his pale lips.  
  
Aaron's brows furrowed in concern, but he nodded anyhow. He might not entirely believe his brother's reassurances, but he was willing to let Elias come to him on his own terms. After all, after the whole mess a few years back with unleashing an emotional ice storm, Elias had willingly opened up more to his brother. Aaron could wait until Elias was ready. He had learned that being patient with his older brother did wonders for the both of them.  
  
As Aaron skated off to join his girlfriend-now-fiancée, Krissta, King Elias took note of the shady figure wrapped in that dark cloak scurrying away from the rink. And as soon as the stranger was gone from the square, the ice became controllable once more, no longer unstable from the sudden heat. With a humid breath of relief, Elias stabilized the ice and redacted his earlier warning to the people, all of whom took it in stride without much more than a bat of an eyelash.    
  
It wasn't until late afternoon that the young King finally called in his people from the rink and returned the square to its original state. Keeping up the magic for so long over an area so large in the heat was difficult at best, and when considering the outer influence of the stranger – as Elias had surmised has somehow happened – fighting against him, he was absolutely exhausted. And besides that, he knew he couldn't stall from his duties for much longer. There was too much he was responsible for, as King of Arendelle.  
  
With a sigh, Elias bid his people a good evening and retreated back into the castle to attend to matters of the kingdom until sunset. There, he had a brief hour of complete isolation set aside either before or after dinner meal (whichever he could sneak in more easily) to sort out his thoughts and decompress from the stress of being king. That day, he chose to unwind in the garden, enjoying the bright, fiery colors of the sunset from a cool bench tucked away beneath a sycamore tree.  
  
A rustling sound in a nearby bush, however, alerted the young King of another's presence. Immediately on guard – knowing that no one could enter the garden unless they either scaled the tall walls (which was unlikely because they'd be spotted far too quickly) or went through one of the guarded entryways, the guards of whom would turn away any and all who sought entry unless it was an emergency – Elias got to his feet to watch with eyes wide as dinner plates.  
  
But who should stumble out of the bushes, but you! The same shrouded figure that he'd seen in the market before the sneeze and losing control of the ice…  
  
“Stupid squirrel,” you muttered in a huff. You brushed small bits of debris from your clothes and hair angrily before straightening and glancing up at the startled King of Arendelle.  
  
“Who are you?” he demanded immediately.  
  
With a low, flourishing bow, sweeping your hood off your head on the way back up, you gave the King a roguish grin. Simpering softly, you announced your name with a smirk. “And I, my fine, young Ice King, am your rival.” Snapping once, you lifted your dominant hand up to chin level, a walnut-sized ball of red, yellow, and orange swirling innocently just above your palm. “Let the games begin.”  
  



	2. A Promise (male Ariel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As an adventurous young princess, you've never wanted to be tied down on land. Not when the sea has always called to you as it does. However, going for a final cruise before your arranged marriage proves to be more dangerous than anyone anticipated... And to be saved by one who has only been considered legend? Promises are promises, and actions have consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note from original post):  
> I've decided that Male!Ariel's name shall be “Arien,” for this fic, at least. For any future fics that may involve him, I might keep it as Ariel, but I feel like Arien is more masculine… XD
> 
> (Also, if you're wondering how it would be pronounced, I think it would be somewhat of a cross between Ariel and Aaron. Ok?

The wind ruffled through your hair gently, and a soft smile highlighted your face in the dusky light. This was sailing. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, appreciative of this experience at sea – even if it might be your last.

After all, once you were married off to that prince of the kingdom of a landlocked country, the only way to the sea would be through political excursions. And that would happen within the month. In a way, this was your father's way of quashing your rebellious attitude. You had been courted by some of the various princes of seafaring countries as well, but you had often escaped to the sea in order to avoid the arranged meetings. None of the princes, belonging to seafaring countries or otherwise, had interested you. Plenty were attractive enough, but none of them had that certain something. That like something special you had been unconsciously looking for. You couldn't even explain what that something was to yourself, let alone to your father, the King.

With a sigh, you leaned into the railing and gazed into the horizon solemnly. If only… If only there was some way to not be… _human_ for a while. Maybe, if you had been born as a fish, it would have been better.

“Thinking of joining the fish again, are we, lass?” A wizened cackle from the oldest of your crew pulled you abruptly from your reverie. “Wouldn't you rather join King Triton's Court of Fair Merfolk? They'd be more than happy to take in such a beautiful lass as yourself, I should think!”

You rolled your eyes and leaned your back against the rail casually, to better give the old man a skeptical smirk. “The day I join King Triton's Merfolk is the day I escape from this mess they call my life,” you quipped. “And there's no way that my father will allow _that.”_

“Indeed,” echoed your governess, Melpa, disapprovingly. “You have as much a chance of 'escaping,' as you put it, your filial duties as we do of being attacked by pirates. After all, your father and the other kings eradicated those pests from our seas long ago…”

Your jaw locked as you held back a scowl. Melpa had always been the one to make sure you were punished for every little thing you did she thought was wrong, from the time you were very small. It wasn't as if she hated you, to the contrary! No, it was more that she resented your bids for freedom when you were blessed to have so much. To see you so willing to throw it all away without the slightest inkling of regret – as you did for every trip to the ocean with a grin on your sweet face – was appalling to her grateful nature. In fact, the only reason for her presence on your ship for this last adventure was to prevent you from convincing the crew to take you far, far away from the reaches of your father. You knew Melpa meant well, but she was always quick to pull you out of your oceanic daydreams.

With a groan, you let your head tilt back and your eyes drift shut. You were determined to absorb what you could of this last adventure before you had to leave it all behind. You would carry your memories of the sea to the grave. You had to, with no guarantee to return…

The evening progressed, and while the crew and the few other passengers wandered about their lives on the ship, you stared at nothing. The small flute you'd been gifted with by your distant cousin, Eric, twirled about your fingers incessantly. He'd said in the letter it came with that this flute was something special. That it helped him find the woman who became his wife, who he loves very much. That it might help you find your true love, like it had for him. And you had heard the stories about his wife – how she was actually a daughter of the sea, that she had given away her voice just to be with him and get him to love her. You didn't really believe your cousin's note, nor the stories about his wife, but it was a romantic thought. After all, fairy tales just didn't come true like they did in the story books…

Absently, you brought the flute to your lips and played a few choice chords, the mellow call of the instrument drifting all around you and being absorbed into the water below. You continued to play whatever your fingers told you to, your mind wandering deep in the fathoms below…

“Hoy, princess! Will ye play a merry tune for us poor salty sea-dogs for us, this one last time?”

You looked up and smiled your melancholy. And as you turned to face the crew, noting the sun setting on the horizon, you faintly heard a small, wet slap against the side of the ship, but thought nothing of it. Plenty of things, not to mention the waves themselves, could have produced that sound.

“Well, what will it be, my crusty lads?” you laughed, twirling the flute between your fingers merrily. “What shall I play for you?”  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  


The night was full of music and laughter and really, _really_ bad dancing on behalf of the crew. And even Melpa joined in the fun by adding her own little ridiculous ditties, after being pestered about them long enough from the crewmates that knew her as a girl. But you were back to your melancholy. As much as you tried to ignore it, there was no way you could shake this darkness overshadowing your heart.

Sighing, you leaned over the railing, twirling your flute absently between your fingers, listening to the gentle lap of the waves against the ship. True love, indeed, you snorted. The only thing that flute had provided was a merciful distraction from your menial tasks and everyday burdens. And though the sudden urge to vent your frustrations with your lot on the flute by throwing it into the depths below, you couldn't do it. Maybe it would continue to serve you as a reminder of your real true love – the sea…

 

**“SHIP SPOTTED OFF THE PORT BOW! SHE FLIES THE JOLLY ROGER!”**

 

Within a breath, the crew was preparing for defending the ship. And the captain, a scruffy older man who had practically raised you for all the time you spent on his ship, was by your side in an instant. The hardened look you saw in his aged, bright eyes was one you'd seen only once, when you were a much younger lass and a storm blind-sided the whole coast in the region. You remembered with a soft breath that many ships had been lost in that freak storm, but yours had returned with minimal damage. You trusted the old sea dog with your life,so when he urged you below deck – to comfort and watch Melpa – you didn't question it for a second.

“Be safe, Grandad,” you commanded, giving his weathered cheek a quick peck.

“Aye, I will, lass,” he nodded, “now get going before I have Joey hog-tie you and toss you below!”

A weak smile touched your lips, and you scurried off into the darkened abyss below. Blindly following the familiar creases in the wood, you quietly found your way into the cabin you shared with Melpa,where you discovered her quietly whimpering in fear.

“Melpy?” You hoped that her old nickname – the one you'd given her when you could barely talk – might comfort her. Quicker than you expected, Melpa latched onto your arm immediately, clutching you close to her chest protectively. Perhaps the nickname had worked a little _too_ well. Your suspicions grew – …

“Don't worry, little princess,” Melpa murmured worriedly, “we'll be safe, you and I. And when we get home, we'll tell your father and he'll see to it that those blasted pirates are hung long before your wedding…”

Suspicions confirmed.

Sighing exasperatedly, you pried yourself from Melpa's arms and began to search for a lantern. After all, if it came down to it, you may have need to defend yourself. And fighting in the dark would be impractical and dangerous. Not to mention that Melpa was afraid of the dark. For as long as you could remember, the elder woman had always been made nervous whenever the light was dim or nonexistent. Granted, you had no real love for the full darkness, either, but you could manage so long as you reassured yourself that the sun would still rise to banish the night back to its rest.

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, fighting back the nausea of nervousness. You had complete faith in the crew, but with pirates… It was hard to guess what they had in store for the ship. Especially since pirates had been eradicated from this region of the seas… So, how had these ones come into being? You shook your head to clear such unnecessary thoughts. You should've been preparing more defenses, not pondering on the existence of the pirates! You moved to shift some of the light cargo against the door…

But then the battle above began.

For every clang of metal on metal, for every shout of pain and aggression, for every crack of the odd gunshot, your aging tutor flinched and drew you closer to her shaking body. For every minute that passed without word of success, you tensed up even more, patting Melpa's hands clumsily as they cut off circulation to your fingers.

A series of thuds and grunts that echoed down the hall and through the ship alerted the two of you that someone had fallen down the cargo hold door and was able to wander the inner ship. Melpa whimpered as the sounds got closer, but your lips sealed in a firm line. Your jaw set, and you swallowed back your fear. You were a princess. No matter what happened, you would not disgrace your parents nor your teachers by dissolving into fear.

… But of all doors, yours was the first that got crashed open.

Melpa shrieked upon seeing the harrowed, bloodied countenance of the intruder, and you instinctively pulled her behind you. Without a word, the two of you acknowledged that the man who entered was _not_ part of Grandad's crew and couldn't be trusted.

The pirate grinned, his disgusting teeth not helped in the least by the lantern light. Melpa whimpered as the man stepped forward. He chuckled, “What 'ave we 'ere? A pretty lass… and a crone…” His smile wilted the closer he stared at you, but that was when you found the strength to act.

You pushed Melpa to the side and took up a defensive position directly opposing the pirate lackey… But he just guffawed and struck. To your shame, the struggle didn't last for long, and before you knew it, you were dragged through the underbelly of the ship and back to the surface. Melpa, who had been left behind, was shrieking hysterically, her cries deadened by the strong wood of the ship.

Once you saw the light of the evening sky above you, you wrenched yourself into a more dignified stance – walking upright despite the pirate's foul grip. As soon as your head was swept about by the gentle sea breeze, you announced, “I demand to speak with the captain!”

The crowd of brutish faces twisted with mock approval, howling with laughter. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Grandad and what remained of the crew tied up off to the side. Their faces were downcast and many of them couldn't even look at you. You knew they were ashamed by their defeat. After all, you were as much a part of their family as you were their beloved, adventurous princess. But you would not fault them for this – you couldn't. The crew was full of weathered old men who had been looking for one last cruise before retiring, and you never allowed guards with you on your ventures out to sea; why change that for this last time? No, no one was to blame.

The murmurs and chuckles of the pirates stirred with air with rowdy exclamations such as, “Th' little lady wants to talk big, does she?” or “Such a blarney lass!” There were some rude claims of what they might do to get your mouth to shut, or else give it a better occupation, but that was only too quickly halted by one call that changed the atmosphere from mocking to watchful in an instant.

“Cap'm!”

The crew tensed and silenced, and you could immediately see why. An imposing figure stomped about the deck, but you had learned to ignore such a facade early in life… No, what really caught your eye was the shining, silvery crescent-shaped hook in place of one of his hands. With a hard gulp, you pushed back gory thoughts of how such a thing could have been possible and the why behind it, and instead focused on those steely eyes that held no mercy.

“And… who might you be, my dear, to speak so boldly?” the Captain purred in an oddly sensual, low voice made no less threatening for its velvety qualities.

You announced your full name clearly for the whole crew to hear. Including the titles you held as princess. The crews of both ships twitched uncomfortably, though the pirates were slightly less agitated than Grandad and his men. “… And who are you, Pirate, to interrupt my final voyage? There is no treasure to be had on this ship. This was meant to be my nostalgia cruise before I become land-locked for the rest of my days.” Shoving your fear aside in favor of cool accusations was hard, but no different from what you usually dealt with in Court.

“My name is James, my dear Princess,” the roguish pirate Captain bowed cordially, though his eyes remained cold and unfeeling. A smirk pulled at his lips lips as he continued, “But most call me Hook. And though this may have been a pointless raid, it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Without a word, he spun on his heel and strutted back towards his ship. Hook spared one of his crew – a mousy man with a red knit cap, you noted absently – a glanced, then snapped his fingers. The mousy man nodded hastily with a nervous, “Aye, Cap'm!” before steeling himself and glaring at the motley crew. “Bring her aboard. If there's nothing to be had here, then we'll still get her worth in gold from the King. Quickly now, lads! There's a ransom to be had!”

Immediately, the pirates cheered all around you, stumbling over to the planks connecting their grimy and barnacle-ridden monstrosity that was their ship to yours. The pirate that had initially found you was similarly enthused, though he was only able to pass you on to another pirate, and from there, hand to hand, till you were halfway across the plank…

Eerie wails arose from the depths below, the water churning statically directly beneath the planks. With morbid fascination and and no small amount of fear, the pirates and yourself gazed upon the chaos below. The wailing grew louder the longer you lingered, and that made the pirates nervous.

“GET HER ON BOARD, YOU SCURVY DOGS!” Captain Hook hollered.

Just as the crew began to react, the sea grew rough, and you fell to your knees. The pirates still left around you tried to hoist and toss you onto their vessel, but one extremely strong wave pulled the ships apart, dragging you and what there was of the crew down into the waves beneath. A short scream escaped your lips, but the water enveloped you too swiftly. Something was tugging the pirate crew away from you, but it was too dark to tell what. Your first conclusion was some sort of predator, and your bid for air became priority followed by escape.

But before you could reach through the mirror to the surface, something bludgeoned against the back of your head, and all the world began to fade…

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

With an almighty groan, you began to feel about your face to locate where the injury that knocked you out stood out, before you even opened your eyes. The next thing you did was realize that you were somehow alive – even though you hadn't been able to fend for yourself in the deep. Your eyes flared open, and you sat up from where you lay in the sand.

As you became more aware of your surroundings, you noted a splash of red resting near the boulders of the shoreline. For indeed, yes, you had been dragged to higher ground of an almost insignificantly-sized cay. The drag marks were still visible in the sand. But besides your own footprints, you could identify no more… Perhaps they had disappeared with the tide? It was possible, if not entirely believable…

You sighed heavily and rubbed your face. Several disparities were bouncing about your head, and with nothing around you but the beach and some lines in the sand, you were even more lost than you have ever imagined to be. But then, from the corner of your eye, you noticed a flash of color dip about the rocks. Your heart caught for a moment, wondering if perhaps it was just a bird… Or, you acquiesced, it could the one who rescued you…

Either way, with a another streak of color illuminated by the rising sun, you decided an investigation was warranted.

… And once you stumbled over to the rocks, a cry of shock escaped your lips. For, there, before your very eyes, lay a man who was just as startled to see you. As you sank to the sand beside him, you absorbed the fact that he was most definitely not what you had been expecting to find.

He was the most interesting man you had ever seen. His hair was a bloody, fiery red, his face as pale as milk, and his eyes… Oh, his eyes. Those eyes as blue as the sea with rings of green as deep as the kelp hanging off his shoulders so very casually, and larger than life… Not to mention the shining, emerald green fish tail replacing what would have been his legs. A merman! Of all things, a merman!

Hesitantly, gazing deeply into those azure eyes, you reached out to touch the skin of his face, and he watched you. He gazed deep into your eyes, almost as if he expected to find the answers to anything and everything he ever wanted to know. However, the skin of his face was slick with a kind of slime that almost made you recoil in disgust… Yet it was also very soft and squishable, not too different from your own. In response, his own fingers, arms also riddled with gleaming emerald green scales along the sides, rose to touch your face. His touch was damp, yet very gentle. He traced your features cautiously, curiously skimming along your neck. You shivered at the feathery brush, but took note of the gills along his throat. Perhaps that was what he searched for.

A blissful smile pulled at your lips. The stories were true! Eric had been right!

Much as you were afraid to startle the young man, answers were needed to be dealt, and he was your best bet at any, at the moment. So, rather than demanding something you weren't sure he could provide, you whispered a question you hoped he could answer. “Uh, hi,” you began breathlessly. “Were… were you the one who saved me?” But then you realized that he might not understand human speech…

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice somewhat hoarse. He blinked and touched his throat in confusion, clearing it quickly before repeating, “Yes, I did.” Ah, that was clear enough.

It dawned on you that he probably had no idea how sound carried through the air, considering that he had most likely been beneath the waves the entirety of his life… Which brought up the question… “Why?” you wondered softly. At his befuddled stare, you shook your head and tried to explain, “Not that I'm ungrateful! No, I'm really glad that you saved me, and I can thank you enough… But why were you there? I should think that humans would be your enemy, right? Always trying to hunt down your people or eating your subjects…”

The merman shrugged as he tossed his unruly bangs away from his eyes. “You weren't hurting anyone, and you haven't tried to hurt me since you woke up, so I don't think you're bad… And humans are pretty interesting. You have and know so many things, and there's so much to do on the land. I'm actually a little jealous, sometimes. I may be a prince, but there's nothing more confining than being told you can't do what you love to do. I just so happen to enjoy learning about humans.”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your chest. “You're… you're a prince?”

The merman appeared startled and quickly ran a hand over his mouth with a frown, his hand wandering into his rebellious red hair without real purpose other than to signal his growing nervousness. “Yes, I am. My name is Arien.”

You took a calming breath and smiled gently to the royal merman, replying with your own name as well. “… And I just so happen to be a princess, too.”

Those bright blue eyes widened as he stared even more intensely into your features, a certain sparkle rippling across those brightly hued pools. “You are?!” His excitement was palpable. “Then my mother might actually approve of this contact! It could be a 'learning experience' for the both of us!”

You grinned and giggled lightly. It was adorable to see just how excited the young man-fish was at this opportunity. To be sure, you were right giddy to have this chance, too, but you had learned how to maintain your composure to the point where it hurt. On the inside, you were jumping all about, singing for joy at the top of your lungs. On the outside, you remained quietly intrigued and amiably interested.

His smile slowly melted away, however, as something seemed to dawn on him. “You weren't alone, though, were you? I'm sorry for your loss. Those who fell into the water around you were taken by the predators before I could do anything.”

You paused thoughtfully. He must have been referring to the pirates that had fallen into the sea when the plank flipped. You sighed and shook your head with a sad smile. “Thank you. But most of the men who must have fallen and were taken away were bad. They were going to hold me ransom, or something of the sort. You actually saved me a lot of grief by rescuing me before they could.”

“Such is the life of royalty, right?” he chuckled bitterly. “I figured as much. That's why I had to stage such an upheaval… I had been watching for a while, you know? Because I was curious to see why you were so sad… ”

You nodded, unconsciously moving aside his bangs to keep his face clear. “… You want to know the worst part of being a human princess?” you spoke softly. You didn't know why you were saying this, with such honesty, but at his curious nod and motion to continue, you sighed, “I'm engaged to be married with a man I've never met before. And after the ceremony, I'm moving to his country – landlocked and so far inland that I'll never see the ocean again. That's why I went on this last venture out. I was hoping to take this opportunity with me to my grave. That's why I was so sad… But now I'm not so sure I can leave. Meeting you has made it clear to me that I could never leave the sea.”

Arien's eyes were wide. “Engaged? To someone you've never met? Never to go to the water for as long as you live?!” At your confirming nod, Arien gently took your hands into his own. They were rather clammy, but you knew he was only trying to comfort you. “That's… that's awful!” he cried, squeezing your fingers with empathy.

“Exactly.” Why could you feel the beginning of tears forming in your eyes?

Arien looked up from your intertwined hands to meet your gaze. “I won't allow it.” Startled, you started to form a question, but Arien hushed you with a finger on your lips. “I can't let that happen. Not to my new friend. It would make you miserable, right?”

You nodded.

“Then convince them to have a seaside wedding. I'll be there to set them straight when the time comes.”

“But Arien – !”

“No, I will do it. You didn't notice it, but the water welcomed you when you fell. And all of the predators avoided you without my needing to direct them otherwise. There's something special about you. And I would love nothing better than to find out why. But I can't do that if they take you away from the sea.”

All unbidden, a heart-warming smile pulled at your lips honestly, and tears raced down your cheeks. Despite having only known the young merman for only a short while, he had come to understand you better than your own family ever had.

Your name and title began to echo all around you. The familiar voices of Grandad and Melpa were reaching out to you.

You got to your knees to peer over the smaller rocks, recognizing in the distance a lifeboat containing your mentors and some of what remained of the crew. When you returned to the sand, Arien was already smiling up at you sadly, knowing that you had to leave.

“Human Princess,” he said softly, “you have my solemn oath as a Prince of the Fair Merfolk that I will find you again, and I _will_ save you. For being away from the sea for a woman so closely related to the deep is a fate worse than death. One which I will not allow you to become subjected.”

You wrapped your arms around the young merman's shoulders with a sob. “Thank you, Arien… I… Thank you.”

The merman held you gently for a long moment, before firmly, delicately pulling away. “For now, we part ways. But this is not the last we will see of each other. I promise, [Y/n].” And with that, he rolled and crawled back into the shoreline, slipping away into darker, deeper waters as soon as it was deep enough to move his tail. You stood to watch him speed off, a genuine smile tugging at your face when you saw his fin raised in farewell before disappearing completely.

“Princess!”

You turned and waved to the rescue boat, now willing to return. If it was the last thing you did, you would ensure that Arien would be able to see your seaside wedding. No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of gold from the description I made when I first posted this thing on dA:
> 
> NOTES: and my headcanons; WELCOME TO MY FANTASY!
> 
> Grandad is not actually related to Reader-chan.
> 
> Merfolk are naturally drawn to the world above. There are legends that the first mermaid was a human woman who pleaded with the gods to grant her a new life in the water, where her sailor husband had met his untimely end.
> 
> Arien and Ariel are cousins through their parents – second cousins, because King Triton and Queen Caspianna are cousins.
> 
> Merfolk unconsciously cast a “hypnotism” on the landfolk they meet, hence the almost trance-like first meeting, but it only goes so far. Ariel couldn't have charmed Eric with that alone, thus her challenge to woo the Prince while voiceless, her biggest redeeming quality gone… ///shot
> 
> A merfolk's loyalty is easy to obtain due to their naive attraction to the landfolk. The only ones aware of the true dangers (ie: betrayal and broken-heartedness, eventually leading to the death or corruption of the merperson if not remedied quickly enough) of befriending or becoming attached to landfolk are the direct Royalty, those who bear the mantle of the Crown and their Heir. Arien doesn't know because he hasn't been crowned the True Heir yet.
> 
> My headcanon is that part of why Ursula went “dark” was because she too fell in love with a human – which is why Triton is so adamant with Ariel about humans; he doesn't want Ariel to end up like Ursula if it doesn't end like she hopes.
> 
> Rather like children, the merfolk follow their Monarchy with utmost confidence and respect, always following the guidelines provided by them. In my headcanon, the Royalty have an almost direct line of communication with the sea god Poseidon because he adopted the merfolk as his children upon their creation.
> 
> This has been the story to crush me so completely when searching for a plotline, out of the 50th watcher special. Seriously. The best I had for the longest time was just Reader-chan chilling on deck with the flute.
> 
> Also, Captain Hook because why not? Pirates gotta pirate to earn the reputation, right? XD
> 
> Maybe I should do a Peter Pan fic next????~ (someday???????)
> 
> And somehow, Arien feels a lot more cynical than his female counterpart???? Or is that just me? Perhaps “logical” is a more appropriate word… >.<”
> 
>  
> 
> I even said that it was going to get even better after that cliffhanger I left you with on Male!Elsa's story... I failed! TT~TT  
>  ... But I think I could possibly save it with a sequel? I have enough material that I wanted to use (but realized it would take too long to write at the last minute) to do one...


	3. The Watcher and the Wanderer (male Esmeralda)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris has become more and more dangerous for the Gypsy people. The Archdeacon of Notre Dame has sent for you, an expert in avoiding soldiers and a friend to the wandering people, to guide them in their hour of need.

You sighed deeply and pulled your hood further down your face. It had been a very, very long time since you last set foot in Paris. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried, there was always something that pulled you back – whether you wanted to or not. You had tried so many times to leave the city for good… Never had it felt like such a losing battle, before.  
  
Shrieks and cheers and music met your cautious hearing. Judging by the lack of people milling about the usually filled streets of the residential area, there was some sort of festival occurring. Perfect. You smiled to yourself and chuckled bitterly. There couldn't have been a better time for you to arrive, then. The guards would be more distracted by handling the masses, rather than looking for one, otherwise innocuous woman.   
  
Passing through the residential area and into the commercial, you pause outside a bakery, _La Boulongerie-Patisserie de Loïc,_ and peer into the window of sweets. You ate each little tiny morsel with naught but your eyes, longingly staring at an eclair that was silently screaming your name. Being on-the-run meant you had to forgo many delicacies and treats you used to enjoy on a regular basis, back when you were small. There were many things you missed – having a stable home being one of them – but at the moment, nothing sounded better, more heavenly than a bite of your favorite pastry…  
  
“Buy something or get on, you ragged little mutt!” a stern man, his arms considerably muscled from all those hours spent wringing bread dough, scowled from the doorway.  
  
Out of habit, you pulled the hood of your cloak further down your face. “Ah, forgive me, _Monsieur._ I was just about to be on my way, but your wares caught my eye. I have rarely seen such masterfully crafted desserts such as yours – even within the walls of Paris,” you nodded, stepping away from the window bashfully.  
  
The man's eyes narrowed at you. “… _Merci, étrangère._ But I stand by what I said – buy something or leave.”  
  
“Of course…” You made to leave, but on a whim, you stopped and looked back to the man – who was only trying to make a living, after all. _“Pardon, Monsieur,_ but could you tell me what festival is being celebrated? It has been a long time since I was last in Paris, and I'm afraid I have lost tracks of the days...”   
  
“Bah, _c'est Le Festival des Imbéciles, étrangère!_ The _gitans_ are putting on a farce, and for today, no one – not even _le juge Frollo_ – will stand against them,” he growled, taking the time to spit in disgust off to the side. “Those mongrels will take any opportunity to make a fool of us, _étrangère,_ so take my advice and stay as far away as you can from them.”  
  
You nodded absently, but inwardly cringed. He made it sound as if the Gypsies were some sort of sickness, like vermin. But you knew better. In fact, some of the nicest, most giving people you'd ever met were Gypsies, and they had even helped you learn how to hide yourself from the public eye in such a way that you'd be less noticeable – amongst other things… _“Merci, Monsieur. Au revior,”_ you murmured.  
  
The baker grunted and slammed the door to his shop closed behind himself. With a shudder, you pressed on. You had a festival to avoid and a cathedral to enter, after all.  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
Avoiding the crowd turned out to be much harder than you thought it might. The gathering place turned out to be very close to _L'Île de la Cité,_ and that was exactly where you needed to be. In the end, you were pulled by some overzealous children, all of whom claimed to be “the boss” of you because everything was “Topsy-Turvy” during the Feast of Fools. They hadn't wanted anyone, especially the mysterious stranger, to miss out in watching the festivities. For your part, you had been a touch curious about why everyone was so eager to see everything turned right on its head, and went along with their demands.  
  
And you were quick to see why. It was all so strange…   
  
Beggars became kings. The ugly were beautiful. The rich were poor. The Gypsies were the directors of all the excitement. And you, a stranger, were welcomed by all like an old friend. Still, no matter how welcoming everyone became to the strange woman hidden in her cloak, you did not remove your hood. Just because Frollo and his men were distracted with keeping the peace didn't mean that the more perceptive guards might not recognize you…   
  
But really, the Festival of Fools, the memories of it you had from your childhood, were beginning to come back. Slowly, but surely.  
  
All of a sudden, a Gypsy, clad in the brightest of the gayest colors and wearing a purple mask, began hailing the people over to a very large stage. It was something the people were obviously looking forward to, for their surging towards the stage nearly knocked you off your feet. Somehow, you ended up directly in front of the stage, where the King of the Gypsies proudly announced the the next performer being a man named **Esmeraldo.**  
  
An awed hush fell over the large crowd for a split moment, allowing the lithe form of a man clad sensually in scarlet and gold and violet to be absorbed in their minds. As for yourself, your breath was taken away by the sheer **talent** and **beauty** of the man performing above you. The Gypsies you had befriended in your travels had trained you to be flexible, but nothing like this stunning Esmeraldo.   
  
Then, all at once, the voices of the crowd returned in full force, nearly deafening you. Their excitement and strange desire aimed towards the young man was overwhelmingly large. Still, you also found yourself hypnotized by the Gypsy. He was wonderful and exotic and beautiful…   
  
“Beguiling,” you snorted to yourself with a flick of your head. “I'd wager he's full of himself, too.”  
  
As if he heard you, your sole, hushed words amidst the roar of the mob all around, the Gypsy man contorted himself directly above you, hovering over you with a faint smirk. Close enough to look into your face, you realized uneasily, Esmeraldo took in the breath you shakily let out. “Something on your mind, _chère?”_ He twisted in such a way that warmth flooded your face, all unbidden. Indeed, this Esmeraldo was a man to behold. “I hate it when the woman I find the most interesting doesn't pay attention when she watches me dance… ”  
  
“ … Yep, self-absorbed. ” And with that, you melted into the crowd, moving slowly enough to not cause a ruckus, but quickly enough to draw the attention of the Gypsy man on the stage. He pouted, and his redirected attentions did not go unnoticed...   
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
Peering about the church, you took note of the forsaken atmosphere. Everyone was either hiding away in their own homes or celebrating in the Festival of Fools. Notre Dame was quiet, a little too quiet for your taste. Without a word, you removed the hood from your head and placed your cloak in one of the pews in the back row. Sighing, you looked to the main crucifix at the front. A sense of melancholy washed over you as you stared, along with penitence and sorrow.  
  
“Forgive me that I am not strong enough,” you whispered. “I'm doing all that I can, trying to follow in Your footsteps with kindness for all… But I am still a sinner, too impure…” Your throat swelled with unshed tears, but you gulped down the tightness and forced a smile to your lips. “All that I can do to praise You like I should is through song. May I do so now, for You?”  
  
The tones began to flow from deep within you, never stumbling the slightest over the foreign syllables of the Latin lyrics. A song of Deity's love and charity, of his kindness and mercy, spilled lovingly from your lips as you approached the alter. And as you finished with the final notes of the prayer-like hymn, you knelt humbly and prayed silently, only your lips tracing the words which you invoked in your mind. You prayed for mercy. You prayed for the strength to go on, and for safety. You prayed to keep your wits about you to help keep those involved with you safe. And, most importantly, you asked for guidance so you could be a better servant for Him. Ending with a note of thankfulness and humility, an “Amen,” ghosting into the air all around you, you stood and turned to face the one who had sent for you – the Archdeacon.  
  
“You may have to hide from soldiers and the hasty lusts of men, dear Daughter,” he smiled warmly, “but it is obvious that _les Yeux de Notre Dame_ have been watching over you. You have grown up to be very beautiful. Your mother and father would be so pleased.”   
  
You returned the smile and curtsied before the man. Your utmost respect belonged solely to him, as much as he would allow it. He was the reason, after all, that you were able to leave Paris in the first place, with your head still attached to your body and not burned to a crisp.  
  
_“Merci,_ Archdeacon. I have traveled very far and learned much about the Father's children and creation… But enough about me. In your letter, you mentioned that things have been bleak for the Wanderers. What would you have me do?” You looked to the holy man in concern. You knew of his affection and care towards the downtrodden of Paris. But you were just one woman. Naturally, you would do everything you possibly could to help, but you only had two hands, one body, one voice. There was only so much you could do.  
  
“Your spirit is a strong one, Daughter… Walk with me, will you? Indulge an old man, just this once.” He offered his arm to you, like the true gentleman he was.  
  
You smiled and took his arm, only too happy to walk with the man that had saved your life and soul so many years before. “It will be my pleasure, Archdeacon.”  
  
“… As I said,” he continued, “you are a strong woman, in spirit and mind. The Gypsies are a proud people, as you may know from your travels, that will rarely – if ever – ask for the help they know they need. It is in their nature to never take anything for granted. And their 'king' has been consulting with me about their situation. Naturally, they cannot all come to the Church for Sanctuary, should the need arise, nor would they consider doing so. The Wanderers, as you have so aptly named them, would not fare well behind these stones walls…”  
  
“… I've known some Wanderers that decided to wander no longer,” you voiced softly, a frown creasing your brow. “They lost those things which gave them so much life and vitality. They ceased to be that which they were, once. They became almost as proud as the people that habitually turned them away in their wanderings…” A sigh escaped from your lips, one that the Archdeacon echoed on a deeper level. “It grieved me to see them, so I didn't stay more than an hour before I continued on my way…”  
  
“Probably a wise decision, dear child… But I digress. What I want to ask of you is to act as a guide to the Wanderers.” The two of you stopped alongside the statue of the Blesséd Virgin Mary. “Show them the ways you have learned to escape the torments. I know how dangerous it is for you to return, especially since _le juge Frollo_ 's power always seems to increase with the people, but they need you, dear child.”  
  
A loud thud and sharp inhalations met the both of your ears, all of a sudden, emanating from the great doors to the chapel. Your heart quickened, and while you scurried back to the pews to retrieve your cloak, the Archdeacon moved to receive the soul gasping for breath. Your hood now up, you bent to hide your face, and none too soon. A Gypsy lad and the Captain of the Guard were all of a sudden in view, though you couldn't make out for sure what they were saying. You wanted nothing more than to cozy up closer to hear the exchange, but you noted just how quick the Gypsy man was to act and react to the Captain's advances with astounding agility, trading blow-for-blow with equal intensity.  
  
You watched from the shadows as the Captain of the Guard made false claim to the Gypsy's call for Sanctuary… and the following confrontation with Judge Frollo. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched the roguish man struggle not to shiver in disgust as Frollo made his dark interest known. There was no way… Not in a church!  
  
But just as quickly as Frollo had arrived to make his threats, he disappeared back into the outside world, his mask of **benevolence** back in place.  
  
You had recognized the Gypsy while he fought with the Captain of the Guard, but even as you examined his exhausted, slumped form resting against the pews nearest your hiding spot, you couldn't believe your eyes. While the Archdeacon fretted over the handsome Esmeraldo, you tried to slip away further from them. This was going to be trouble with a capital 'T.' You needed a moment to contemplate the meaning of this…   
  
“Daughter? It is safe to come out… Please, my dear, meet one of the pinnacle members of the Gypsy Court – Esmeraldo!” the Archdeacon gestured, offering a hand out to you.  
  
You took the Archdeacon's hand and slowly removed your hood as you approached, meeting those startlingly bright emerald green eyes straight on. And you watched those brilliant, gorgeous eyes widen in recognition. You smiled sheepishly, _“Bonjour, monsieur. Je m'appelle [Y/n].”_   
  
_“Bonjour,”_ Esmeraldo nodded in return. _“Pardon moi, mais… vous?_ You are the one that was sent for to help us? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.” He huffed and tossed his hair over his shoulder, his arms folded over his chest.  
  
_“Oui, c'est moi,”_ you confirmed with a sigh. “Believe it or not, I have experience with escaping from Frollo's ire. If nothing else, I can offer a means of escape if it becomes that Paris is too dangerous for your people.”  
  
“Escape?” Esmeraldo snorted, shaking his head scornfully. “What of Justice, then? Who will stand for what is right if everyone it has been denied is gone? No, there is no way you can help us.” He made to storm off, but you intercepted him.  
  
Scowling, you took a challenging step forward into him. “Do not assume that running away is all I can do!” you frowned. “While I believe that your people are deserved their due processes, there is no need to involve the children and mothers when there is a chance that it may come to bloodshed. Frollo has done it before, and as soon as he is able to gather the support of the people strongly enough, he will do it again. I can offer asylum to the aged and the young while the able adults sort out the unpleasantness. Meanwhile, you can do your freedom-fighting. I will support you where I can. After all, I can go places and do things that you and your people cannot. Would it not help to have an ally such as this?”  
  
Those hard, passionate eyes stared deeply into your own, reading into the very depths of your soul and holding you hypnotized in place. He blinked slowly, allowing you the chance to exhale shakily as he approached closer, examining you closely but not in a way that was altogether uncomfortable. More than a glance to assure him of your integrity, you knew it was to make note of your physique and the way you carried yourself. It was all about body language with the Wanderers, and you knew that if you could pass the inspection of a man that manipulated his own body language as a way of life, you could be accepted by those Gypsies you had yet to meet and convince.   
  
“… Show me a way to get out of here without being seen by the Guards waiting outside, and you have yourself a deal, _mademoiselle,”_ he uttered at long last.  
  
A grin stole itself upon your lips. “Easy,” you giggled. “All we need to do for now is wait till the sun goes down. Think you can handle being inside stone walls for a few hours longer?” You were teasing him – lightly, but still teasing.  
  
Familiar with teasing, though usually being on the giving rather than the receiving end of the it, Esmeraldo smirked and leaned casually on one of the stone pillars. “For this once, I might find that saintly patience I'm always being scolded for not possessing. I do hope, _chére,_ that what you say is true. I'm trusting in you. And I do not give that lightly.”  
  
_“Excellent!”_ the Archdeacon cried, “all is as it should be, for now. At this moment, my Children, take rest and breathe easy. The Eyes of Notre Dame are watching over you, standing guard against your enemies…” And with those words, the Archdeacon returned to his duties and began to prepare for a ceremony with the other priests.  
  
You and the handsome, young Gypsy man were left staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move as new allies. In the end, it was you who made the first move, pulling a small hunk of bread from your supply satchel and offering him a piece, your expression a well-trained blank. “Care to join me for supper while we wait, then? No use in escaping while our bellies are empty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes and translations I provided when I first posted this:
> 
> I'd like to point out that the movie originally has many points that turn to Catholicism, and while I'm not Catholic, I am Christian, so I did my best. >.<"
> 
> Hmmm… As I was writing this, I noticed that I could, quite possibly, make a short series out of this. Flesh out some of the things I hinted at, clarify details, you know?
> 
> If this part gets enough lovin's, I might develop it more. Otherwise, consider this a lovely little oneshot!~ X3 One of the many I've (oh so slowly) been working on for my 50 watchers special!~
> 
> Just as a side note, I feel like I should mention that I only recently watched (like, within the past couple years) the whole of the movie. This was not a Disney movie that was part of my childhood. Considering that plenty of other, tamer things gave me nightmares as a kid, my parents thought it best to wait till I was older before I watched Hunchback. And I feel like I appreciate it much more now than I might have as a child, ya know? :3
> 
> Also, for those who need a song for the one I had Reader-chan sing, here's what I imagined: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rgVXiUD0JE  
> I had to sing this in my Madrigals choir group while I was in high school, and I absolutely fell in love with it!~
> 
>  
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> La Boulongerie-Patisserie de Loïc = essentially Loïc's Bakery
> 
> Monsieur = Mister/sir… if you don't know this by now, I don't know what to tell you.
> 
> Merci, étrangère = Thank you, (feminine) stranger.
> 
> c'est Le Festival des Imbéciles, étrangère! = It's the Festival of Fools, stranger!
> 
> Gitans = French word for Gypsies
> 
> le juge Frollo = (the) Judge Frollo
> 
> Merci, Monsieur. Au revior = Thank you, sir. Good bye.
> 
> L'Île de la Cité = literally The Isle of the City, but that's the place where Notre Dame stands
> 
> chère = a shortened term of endearment, essentially dear/darling
> 
> les Yeux de Notre Dame = the Eyes of Notre Dame, literally the Eyes of Our Lady
> 
> Bonjour, monsieur. Je m'appelle [Y/n] = Hello, sir. My name is(/I am called) [Y/n]
> 
> Pardon moi, mais… vous ? = Excuse me, but... (formal) you ? (Note : remember that he doesn't know you yet. He's being respectful sorta to a pretty lady!)
> 
> Oui, c'est moi = Yes, it's/that's me
> 
> mademoiselle = miss/ma'am, usually for a young/unmarried woman or girl... also one you should already know. XD


End file.
